The Day of Resis

by Lillian Frances Mentor

For a second time Onrai had spoken thus and the events of the past few hours seemed to have made a great impression on his mind; he could not realize that all these things had existed for years and hundreds of years. It all seemed so improbable to one who had been taught to believe that his race was the only people and that his or their land above the surface, was the only country. He had seen strange things in the past few hours the only strange things he had ever seen in his life, with the exception of our friends, if they may be classed under this category.

“I will have strange tales to tell my people,” said Onrai.

“You must not tell them of these things,” said Mr. Graham, “for it would but make them discontented and long to see them also. It would be much better never to mention these; you can easily evade the subject when broached and our people will never say anything.”

“Do you think they would care to investigate?” asked Onrai. “I would never care to come here again and I cannot believe that they would ever care to visit this place if I should explain to them the danger and trouble attending the trip.”

“Yes, it would be better, would it not?” said Mr. Bruce, “to obey the laws which have governed you for centuries, and which forbids your prying into anything which has not already been explained by these laws.”

“I begin to think as you do,” said Onrai, “but I doubt my ability to keep from my people, should they ask me, the things which I have learned here. We have never had secrets, as you have taught me to call these things, and I have not learned the art of withholding things which I do not wish to say.”

“Nothing may be said to you about your journey, and then it would be easy enough, would it not, to keep these things to yourself?”

“It may be so,” said Onrai.

They were traveling in a good easy walk, and were covering considerable ground, but they were growing weary and it was decided to rest for a few hours. This they proceeded to do, but before they stretched out on the hard floor, they blew out the torches so that any of the natives, who might be prowling about, would not see them and again be on them. The journey had been long and they had had but little rest, so when they finally lay down and stretched out their weary limbs, their eyes soon closed and all was forgotten in a very few moments. The hard floor of the cave, the memories of the recent events, the fear of not again finding their way out of the dark hole, these things could not keep them awake for they were worn out, mind and body, and once they had fallen into a reclining position, they were soon oblivious to everything.

They had been sleeping for hours, it seemed to Harry, when he was awakened by a distant cry. It sounded to him like the yell of the natives, when they had first discovered the strangers. He looked about him half dreamily but could see nothing and turned over, thinking he would sleep awhile longer as the others had not yet awakened. He was just falling off again, when that cry broke out just a little shriller than before. This time Harry jumped to his feet, certain now of its being a human cry. He looked about him, he even took a few steps away from his sleeping companions, and stopping again, listened. No, he could hear nothing; still, he was sure that he had not been mistaken. All sleep had now been knocked out of him, and feeling refreshed he knew that he had been sleeping for some time. He walked over to his companions and awakened them, but before he had time to interfere or explain to them what it was that had awakened him, Mr. Bruce had lit a match, and with this, the torch. Harry made a movement as if he would extinguish this, and not having heard the sound after this second awakening, he thought there might be just a possibility of his having been mistaken. But he told his companions of the occurrence so that they might not blame him if anything should come of it later.